Saturday, December 29, 2007

Moth and Reality

Moving at a glacial pace, he stumbles upon Jagger the wide mouthed moth. Flutter flutter. Scratchy pollens fly off, waft about for a second and settle upon his suede. Allegoric allergens trigger the finicky foxholes of his mind. Scratch scratch. Blood red blotches mushroom the decaying neurons of his caloried impulse. Jagger smiles at him and with a furtive poise in air disappears into the bright lights of artifice. Flash flash. Ruben, is left stranded on the clueless corners of Blind spot. Tall moments of absolute cluelessness look down upon him like buildings. Unkilled mosquitoes, aeroplanes, crows, cats sneer at him with a triumphant demeanour.

All at once. Twice, thrice. vroooom. honk, honk. vroooMMMMMMMM.....

Bullock cars run him over, time and over again. Bright light is cast upon the entire town of Blind spot. Fuse white electricity burn out the fatty suspensions of his impulse. Ironically, he feels gold.

About Me

Introduction

The New Friends Colony Community Centre is about fifteen minutes from the agency and two from hell. When India hit independence, Nehru had them chase out all the djinns and the tantrics, outlaw magic and seal up all the manholes, public bathrooms and tunnels that led to hell. Needless to say, they missed a few. The one at the New Friends Colony Community Centre is unique, in the sense that it has actually sprouted a commercial complex about it, peopled by struggling artists, advertising executives, and personal and public demons.This blog is dedicated to the Delhi netherworld and its malcontents.